Fan Fiction
TITLE: Whisper to a Scream
AUTHOR: Judith Medina
RATING: R
CODES: C/T
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Set just after Faces. This non-profit material was produced out of love for Star Trek: Voyager and is not intended to infringe upon the Star Trek copyrights of Viacom, Paramount Pictures Corporation, nor those of any other legal holders of Star Trek copyrights, in this or any other universe...
SUMMARY: Set after the episode Faces. B'Elanna seeks Chakotay out as she struggles with her newfound humanity.
After Chakotay left the Sickbay, B'Elanna Torres watched the Doctor working in his office. He was doubtlessly accessing the files he required on the Klingon DNA which he intended to return to her physiological makeup.
Her mind was numb and she wondered, not for the first time since her bodily dissolution into two separate and distinct entities known as B'Elanna -- one entirely Human, the other entirely Klingon -- if the numbness, the confusion was caused by some form of shock or if this was, in fact, the way Humans actually felt all the time.
She frankly would not know. She had never been entirely Human before until these last few days, had not known it was even possible for her to ever become totally Human until a Vidiian's rotting face of horror had informed her he had accomplished this very feat in his laboratory. The laboratory she'd woken up in after being stunned while investigating mineral deposits on an unnamed moon during an away team with Paris and Durst.
Durst... Her mind echoed, recalling her last view of the bloody, horrifying spectacle of the face of the gentle, soft-spoken lieutenant being worn by a Vidiian doctor. Durst who had, she recalled, occasionally given her shy glances aboard Voyager which had told her he was definitely not averse to a little inter-species communication...or more. Durst who had actually requested to come along on the mission of Paris, despite the fact that it promised nothing but several days and nights in the cold, damp rocky caverns deep within some alien moon, but then, B'Elanna had shrugged at the time, to each his own.
Now Durst was dead. Dead and his body parcelled out to dozens of Vidiian's. The very thought made her cringe now, a shudder wrenching its way across her shoulders and down her spine. She tried unsuccessfully to suppress the last image of his face she had seen again, worn on a loathsome, if equally soft-spoken Vidiian doctor.
_No, not a doctor, a..._what was that term her father had once used telling her a scary story during that campfire sleep-out, one of the few activities her parents had mutually enjoyed was camping, one of the few happy times she could remember was being together with both her parents as her father told stories. _Oh, yeah, a mad scientist. That was what that-that piece of unspeakable slime was. He was definitely not a doctor._ Even the hologram which was currently frowning at a display on his computer terminal, held more feeling and compassion than that-that obscene alien filth.
Abruptly, B'Elanna felt ill again, woozy. A sensation in her stomach which literally felt like that Human phrase guts turned to water . Of course, that phrase usually applied to feelings of cowardice which B'Elanna had not felt since she was a child, around the same age as that long-ago campfire sleep-out, not long before her father disappeared, never to return.
_Liar,_ she chided herself now. _You felt only fear down there. You were nothing *but* a coward..._ At least until it came to setting aside her fear to get them all out of that hell-hole of a place. Her overriding need to get the shielding down so that Voyager could lock on them and beam them away to safety had been very nearly as great as her fear. That fear had almost cost the lives of more of the team than Durst. Poor Durst.
But Durst was dead, she told herself now, and frankly, even if it sounded cold, best forgotten, because to recall him only brought with it other horrifying images and feelings far too complex to analyze comfortably.
B'Elanna rubbed her forehead yet again. The smooth expanse of skin felt wrong, yet somewhere deep within, a thrill greater than any she'd ever felt before filled her at the sensation of the smoothness.
_Look at me!_ She wanted to shout, _I'm Human! I'm normal! For the first time, normal. But not for long, B'Elanna, because according to the Doctor you need to return. Return to the (hated) way you were before._
She frowned. _Do I really hate the Klingon half of me? Or just the things she steals from me? My inner peace, this lovely blissful feeling of just being, not feeling that inner drive of having to do something or else die. Is she the one who gives me my drive? What would she be doing now?_
Before she even finished asking herself the question, B'Elanna knew that the old her would be at the engine room, injury or no injury.
Else she would have followed Chakotay down that hall out of Sickbay and argued him into a deep, tumultuous tumble into the depths of bedroom depravity, as only a Klingon could experience. Anger and passion, love and violence, all the greater emotions of life encapsulated into searing, unthinking passion.
Her cheeks flushed at this, only partly because the sudden thought held great appeal at the moment. Partly because she had also suddenly realized what it wasshe wanted now for herself. Only for herself. The thing she deserved and could not get ever again because once the doctor started his treatment, she would never again be merely Human.
_At least unless some Vidiians catch me again._ B'Elanna stood, not even thinking of how ironic this thought was since the old her would have added, _but that won't happen again because next time I'll kill them with my bare hands or die trying._ But this thought did not occur. Mostly because she was trying to figure out what to say if the Doctor or Kes brought up objections to her request. And only partly because she was trying to figure out how to ask Chakotay and what she would do if he refused...
Chakotay picked up his fork, thanking the gods that his hand was again able to manipulate such small items. Only a few hours ago it had been a disgustingly twisted distortion of a hand, surgically altered to that appearance by the considerable talents of the holographic doctor.
How could the Vidiians live that way? He pondered now. What if that had happened to his people? What if he were infected? The thought barely gave him pause. If the Doctor could not isolate a cure, then death would come by his own hand so as not to make of himself a burden to others, either by his weakness or because the sight of him would have been a terrifying imprint on their mind. A creature to be either feared or pitied.
_Let me never be thus,_ Chakotay prayed with a small, barely suppressed shudder which made him quickly survey the small, nearly empty room which Neelix had surprisingly converted from the somewhat pretentious Captain's private dining room into a crew galley, which, in Chakotay's eyes, was far more necessary.
Of course, he would never admit such a thing to his captain. He smiled. _How pretentious she would probably make you out to be, Nature Boy,_ he thought to himself, gracing himself with the pejorative which his Starfleet Academy classmates had given him.
Now, twenty years past that painfully awkward period of his life, he called himself that privately and usually smiled, proud of the heritage which would make such a name, not belittling, but merely descriptive.
_How far I have come..._ he sighed, then forked more of Neelix's special of the day into his mouth without breathing. He had learned that if he didn't breathe too much when he took a bite, the texture and heat of the food was far more palatable than the strange alien seasonings which the Talaxian sprinkled into everything that made mealtimes a matter of strange, new exploration, every bit as intriguing as the mission the starship was on.
_Getting old, there, Nature Boy,_ he mused, recalling how he had actually looked forward to sampling the alien cuisine he imagined would be found at Starfleet Academy. What he had found instead, had been a fully replicated menu of dishes from his own and other Indian tribes from around the galaxy, well-seasoned, just the right temperatures and something of an affront to the young, unseasoned cadet he had been.
It had bothered him that while he had thought no one could possibly understand the world he'd come from and that no one could possibly understand that corn meal was not merely a food but a sacred tool in his people's religion and not to be squandered, that eating animal flesh was never to be done without thanking the spirit of the animal for giving its life in order to sustain your own, here it was all condensed into small, descriptive blurbs on the console of a replicator in San Francisco harbor which, while not disrespectful, were also not all inclusive.
He had studiously avoided eating any of those replicated versions of his people's food. 'Bastardized' versions, he had called them in one of his letters to an uncle and so they had remained.
_Ironic,_ he thought now, _that I would give my molars to be standing by that replicator so that I could order blue corn stew and mushrooms and oregano tea and fill my mouth and nose and senses with just the taste of home. A home I may never see again._
He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and the sudden discomfiture with a bracing swallow of ice water, closing his eyes and willing away the threatening tears and the momentary homesickness that washed over him.
_I need to meditate,_ he told himself, still drinking water, eyes closed. It was no wonder he was feeling uncharacteristically emotional considering the horrific nature of the mission he'd just accomplished and the spectacles he'd seen on that Vidiian moon.
He stopped drinking and set his glass down, opening his eyes. To his surprise, B'Elanna stood before him, watching him apprehensively. He blinked, noting she still wore the Sickbay robe and that she was trembling slightly. He stood, offering her the chair by him.
"B'Elanna, sit down." His voice was gentle, but firm and she did not argue with him, merely collapsing on the chair beside him as if her legs could not carry her any further. A brief assessment of her wan face made him wonder if that was indeed the case and as he sat, so as not to make any of the others in the room suspicious, asked, "Did the Doctor give you permission to leave Sickbay, B'Elanna?"
She nodded tersely and he relaxed slightly. While he knew she was capable of lying merely to keep him from ordering her to return, he also knew that in this instance, she was not. He knew this woman quite well and had, in fact, enjoyed a brief and tumultuous tryst with her after one harrowing Maquis mission which had turned out successful beyond their wildest dreams, netting them not just supplies, but three small ships.
More importantly, Chakotay trusted B'Elanna. They both came from the background of the outsider and well they understood it. Their recognition of the other was based on it and it formed the basis for all else that would follow from it for them.
"I asked him if I could and he said it should be all right." she answered now, somewhat breathlessly. Since she did not appear to be in physical distress, Chakotay took this as an indication of stress. "He said the replicated-Klingon-DNA material wouldn't be ready until tomorrow afternoon and gave me a hypo of something to keep me steady on my feet until then."
She reached for his nearly empty glass of water and he did not stop her, merely noting the fine tremble of her lean, usually strong fingers. Now they appeared weak to him. Is it because she's Human right now?
He frowned slightly and murmured, "Are you sure it's working?"
She stopped with the glass half-way to her lips and noted his steady gaze on her hands. She smiled slightly, sardonically, and sipped a little water, then shrugged. "That's not me. That's just fear."
Her frank response made him blink. B'Elanna was not one who faced her fear well. Her response to fear, in the Maquis, had been fearsome in itself. It enraged her and enabled her to accomplish feats during her missions that left their enemies in awe. But that was a different woman.
This slight, very Human-looking woman with the large, vulnerable eyes made Chakotay feel intensely protective, despite himself. Even in the middle of the galley, he felt the sudden desire to enfold her in his arms and he found himself gripping the table edge slightly as he leaned closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Do you want to talk about it, Relampaga?"
His use of the private nickname her father had given her (indicating a female bolt of lightning) and which the Maquis had learned of after a very long celebratory night which had seen much quaffing of d'gaHL, a potent Klingon wine, by B'Elanna, made her smile somewhat sadly; she had not seen her father for so long and still loved him despite his desertion of his family. She was also feeling somewhat shy due to her reason for seeing Chakotay now. Oddly, it was this shy smile that made him react; much as he'd wanted to hold her earlier, he now found himself wanting to do far more than just hold her.
"Yes, Yes, I do." She replied, looking around the room, then back at him. Her voice dropped lower. "It's really a...a favor I'd like to ask. Could we go to your quarters? Or could you come to mine?"
Chakotay considered this. To his surprise, he realized that, aside from incessant requests for newer equipment and better tools to service what equipment they had, B'Elanna Torres had never asked him for a favor of any kind before. He nodded.
"I'll walk you to your quarters," he said quietly, making his choice based on the fact that her quarters were much closer and that she looked even more drawn and pale than when she'd first walked up to his table.
Her smile widened and her eyes dropped slightly. He almost didn't hear her whispered, "Thanks."
Chakotay wondered what request would be so important that she would come to see him when she obviously did not feel well, or for that matter, be so momentous as to make the strongest woman he knew to feel so shy. _Only one way to find out, Nature Boy._
He stood and escorted B'Elanna out of the galley, food forgotten.
"I'm not sure I follow." Chakotay's voice was quiet and reasonable, with no hint of disapproval, for which B'Elanna was grateful.
She was also aware of the time passing which could never be re-experienced. Desperation tinged her voice as she suddenly turned away from him and whispered, "Don't you understand? I want you to make love to me!"
A sob escaped at the end of this declaration and she stifled the desire to weep by holding her breath and closing her eyes, her hands clasping her elbows, hugging herself as she faced away from this man who was the only one on the ship, indeed in either the Delta or Alpha Quadrant of whom she would have made such a request. Or would have wanted to.
She was so wound up in trying to figure out how to express herself better that she didn't feel the warm hands on her shoulders until they gently squeezed, then urged her to turn around. B'Elanna did, burying her face against Chakotay's warm, broad chest and allowed the tears she'd been fighting to fall.
"Relampaga..." He murmured, the rumble of his voice as comforting as its loving tone. His strong arms held her against him, soothing away the fear and the shame that made her tremble.
B'Elanna sighed now, content just to be in his arms, although she sought and still hoped for more. She pulled back now to look at him.
"I need you to understand, I'm not asking you for a permanent arrangement, Chakotay. I'm not even asking for..." Her voice faltered and she changed tack, "What I... what I'm asking I won't be able to ever ask you again. And there's no one else I want to ask. I think you understand me better than anyone on this ship. Maybe I kid myself thinking that I understand you --"
"Stop, B'Elanna." His voice was gentle, but firm and he urged her to come sit beside him on her couch, side by side, not letting go of her hand. He smiled gently now, no hint of anger or disapproval or, worse, amusement, in his dark brown eyes.
"According to the doctor, this process will take about eight days or so and will probably be painful. Painful, but necessary was how he described it. I don't care about that, but...for the next three days, until the re-coding procedure starts to take effect, I'm going to be Human, looking like this." She stopped talking to touch her forehead, then looked back into his eyes, her own filled with so much need that Chakotay found his body responding, much as it had earlier.
He swallowed and nodded. "I understand." He reached out and gently touched the oddly smooth forehead, which on B'Elanna, seemed alien to him. Alien, but still incredibly lovely. He added with certainty, "You want to experience love-making, as a Human. Only a Human. Like you won't be again, very soon."
Chakotay knew his phrasing was not eloquent, but between B'Elanna and him, eloquence was not a significant factor. What mattered was they understood one another. Or at least, he felt they did and maybe *that* was what was significant.
B'Elanna nodded, the rush of relief passing through her so great that she found herself nearly bursting into tears again. Instead she smiled and nodded and said, "I'm so glad you understand."
Suddenly her smile died and she pulled her hand free of his, her eyes turning away from him, apprehensive. "Gods, what a calculating bitch I must sound like!" She turned back to him, said with fierce sincerity, "I'm so sorry, Chakotay! I didn't realize what --"
The touch of his hands on her lips shushed her and she looked up to find him moving closer, his fingers now tracing her face gently. He shook his head. "Don't be sorry, Relampaga. I'm honored you would think of me. It's been a long time. What we had once is a memory I still treasure."
She looked up at him, then extended her own hand up to his face, traced the lines of the tattoo on his temple, then stroked his thick, cropped hair, enjoying the way it felt against her fingers. He nodded assent.
"Go on." His voice was a deep, husky whisper, giving her permission to continue the exploration she had begun.
Without further fanfare, she slid closer to him, cupped his face, feeling its texture beneath her fingertips. He tilted his head apologetically.
"I haven't shaved since yesterday."
B'Elanna could feel the tingle of bristle which started at his jawline, angled along his cheek. She found her fingers smoothing over his thick, sensuous lips. Chakotay didn't move, allowing her to learn his face, let his body respond as it would to the unfamiliar sensation of her now smooth, uncalloused fingers. Previously, her fingers had been persistently calloused, roughened by work and her Klingon physiology.
He recalled now the last time they'd had a tryst. 'Making love' was not the term that entered his mind when he thought of it. It had been passionate, thunderous and unmercifully brief. It had, he recalled, left him throbbing with unrelieved tension, as well as several painful bruises, yet desirous of more.
This current tenderness was as opposite an expression of physical desire as one could get. She leaned closer to him, and then gently touched her lips to his, less than a kiss, but far more than a caress; it was almost as if she was trying to decide how it felt. She kissed him with more force, no urgency, merely a testing, tasting gesture which made him close his eyes, much as her own had.
Her fingers continued their exploration as their lips merged and re-merged, one caressing his broad chest, the other slipping lower across his abdomen, causing his stomach muscles to flutter. She smiled against his mouth and he felt that hand drift lower. He closed his eyes tighter, holding back the desire to pull her into his arms and re-experience her as he had the last time. It was not, he knew, what she wanted or needed now.
Then she pulled back. He looked at her with curiosity. "B'Elanna?"
Again, she graced him with the shy, tentative smile of before, then she shrugged, gestured with her chin. Her voice was low. "Should we...?"
He briefly looked to the indicated bedroom, then back to B'Elanna. After a moment of reflection, he nodded.
Standing with care, he extended his hand to her, aware that his desire was now in blatant evidence, further aware that it was precisely what this woman wanted, a happenstance he had little experience with; between his desire to excel, his hard-driven career goals in Starfleet, his conversion to the Maquis, then a hard-scrabble existence which was one long fight to survive and to keep those under him alive, his past goals all conspired to leave him few opportunities in this area of life.
_How long, Chakotay, since you've been with a woman? Any woman? And how long until the next time?_ He smiled at her now, shutting these thoughts away.
It had rarely given him pause, during his moments of reflection, that other men such as Paris were considered masters of matters sexual. His own personal code required that women, all women, be treated with greater respect than mere receptacles for the sowing of seed. Chakotay truly valued women and their contribution to society. Much as men had their innate attributes, women, to Chakotay's way of thinking, made life bearable.
Thus, while he had not often availed himself of sex and never simply to experience it as some men did, he was confident that any possible lack of expertise was more than made up for by his genuine respect and earnest entreaty for the woman to tell him, show him what pleased her best.
To his delight, every single woman he'd ever given himself to, had been different. And every one had found his attitude refreshing and sexually provocative. And everyone of his past partners was still a friend, something he doubted a man like Paris could boast. Even Seska...
The traitorous Seska had still held him in enough esteem to allow him to pinpoint her as a saboteur aboard Voyager. And she was a Cardassian!
_Slept with the enemy..._ A brief shudder ran through him as the thought entered his mind unbidden. B'Elanna stopped her careful removal of his jacket and waited.
Chakotay realized she thought she'd hurt him somehow with her action and he shrugged the jacket off, turning to her. The thin robe was all she wore and he allowed her to keep it on, but he unfastened the gathers of it and let it hang open, smiling at her with unspoken desire. Then he sat and kicked off his boots and gestured for her to come to him. He let her finish undressing him, as he could see the curiosity, the longing in her eyes that spoke more eloquently than words. It was as if, he thought, it was their first time.
It was, he realised now. He had never made love to this Human woman. And this Human woman had never made love to him. Or to anyone. It would be as if it were her first time, he thought warmly, the warmth mixing with the fiery desire which was building within his veins and surging to his loins to harden him to a fiercely demanding ache that craved his joining with this woman, to finally become one with her, as she finished undressing him.
She carefully slipped off his uniform trousers and uncovered the aching evidence of his desire and he took her hands in his lest he lose himself in the excruciating need he felt. A look in her eyes told him that she also felt the same. He let her hands go to gently slide the robe off her smooth, shoulders.
He marveled at the warm, soft and silky skin beneath his hands. The woman she'd been before (and would be again) had vestiges of additional ultra-dense muscle layers along her shoulders, her chest and spine, part of the armor that made Klingons seemingly impervious to mere blows. Even during love-play.
He skimmed a hand down her arm, burying his face in her shoulder and the hollow of her neck and smelling deeply. An intensely warm and Human smell greeted him. It was different. A different woman. _A woman I've never been with before,_ he sighed, then lost himself to the slow press of flesh against his own as he lay down with her, concentrating on her response in order to fully pleasure this beautiful woman.
"Beautiful woman..." Chakotay murmured against her breast.
To his befuddlement, B'Elanna stiffened, and he stopped. "Did I hurt you?" He whispered regretfully, uncertainly.
She didn't immediately answer and he pulled up to cup one side of her face with his hand and ask her, "What is it, B'Elanna?" adding pointedly, "You can tell me if I hurt you."
She swallowed and he noted the tears brimming on her lashes. Frowning slightly, he moved up further and brushed them free, then kissed her eyes, her cheeks.
By this time, tears were streaming from her eyes, so he moved aside and gathered her to him, letting her cry against his shoulder, ignoring the unrelieved throbbing of his body, as he whispered, "I'm sorry, B'Elanna, for whatever I did."
She nodded, didn't respond and finally he was constrained to gently tilt her head to meet his gaze and asked, "Can you tell me what I did?"
Her voice was a raspy husk of sound, barely audible despite his closeness. Her head dropped against his shoulder before she spoke. "No one's ever said that before. And... and the last time you and I did this... you didn't say anything at all to me, Chakotay."
He considered this, thought back over recent events and then hugged her tight to him. "When I called you a beautiful woman, B'Elanna, that wasn't an indication that I felt any differently for you then. If you remember, when we...had sex...last, it didn't leave much time for exchanging words or much of anything. It wasn't even making love. It was quick, almost brutal, and I was afraid of hurting you...or you hurting me."
B'Elanna held onto him for a few moments, then looked up at him. She'd stopped crying and now she smiled wistfully. "I'm sorry, Chakotay. I told Paris on the planet that I think this processing the Vidiian's did to me did more than just extract my Klingon DNA. It feels like it took some of my common sense and my...shielding from me."
"Along with the armor?" Chakotay teased, running his hands along her smooth shoulders. As he intended, B'Elanna relaxed and smiled.
"Along with the armor."
He caressed her again and hugged her briefly, tightly. "Don't worry. I apologize for speaking without thinking. But then," He kissed her forehead, "You have the tendency to make me do that, Klingon or Human or both."
B'Elanna smiled at this and they kissed, then he added, "And you are a very beautiful woman in either of your incarnations, Relampaga. Don't ever forget that."
She nodded, then touched his face with one hand, the other gently stroking him back to the fierce rigidity of before. He groaned now and buried his face against her as he took her in his arms and allowed his body to learn hers in its entirety. Neither of them said anything more as desire swept over them in warm, pulsating waves which they allowed to carry them along.
The only sound aside from his breathing, which slowly grew harsher with his urgency, was a single uttered gasp which was unexpectedly wrenched from her when he eased his way within her. For several moments he held still, allowing her to set the tempo.
After this brief interlude, she urged him onward and he slowly recommenced his climb, striving to take her with him to the summit of passion. Another sharp gasp suddenly sounded against his ear, but before he could ascertain if he'd hurt her in some way, he felt her convulse around him and lost himself utterly.
Trembling in his seemingly endless release, he heard her series of accompanying gasps of breath against his ear and felt the inner contractions that signalled her own release, and he spent himself within her, profoundly glad she'd found some of what she had sought.
It wasn't until several moments later, that they discovered she was bleeding.
Chakotay's voice was even and calm, and he forced himself to walk with deliberate precision as he led the Ocampan medic to B'Elanna's quarters. "I really appreciate this, Kes."
He had no desire to create any rumors aboard the too-small ship by communicating the urgency he was feeling to the crew members which they passed. For her part, Kes merely nodded at his statement and matched his steady, unhurried steps.
"The doctor has impressed upon me the importance of being available to the crew as well as the significance of remaining discreet, Commander," she informed him.
They reached the door and Chakotay seemed reluctant to continue. Finally, Kes turned to him and suggested, "Perhaps you could wait in the main room while I examine the Lieutenant."
Chakotay nodded gratefully and, activating the door mechanism, they entered. He stepped to the replicator across the room, studiously ignoring Kes' heading for the bedroom area. He ordered a very hot cup of cinnamon tea, something which braced him when he felt the need, and sat with it at the small dining table, watching the steam rising from the cup.
"As I told the Commander, the doctor has impressed upon me the significance of remaining discreet, Lieutenant." Kes said gently, noting the woman's discomfiture and frightened appearance in one glance.
The entirely Human-looking B'Elanna Torres sat huddled at the edge of the rumpled bed, the Sickbay robe wrapped tightly around her slender form as if warding off a chill. However the room was of a comfortable temperature and Kes could sense the shame and the echoes of fright which B'Elanna had experienced earlier, so now she sat carefully beside her and touched her arm gently. "I don't judge. I won't. Just tell me: what is wrong?"
B'Elanna hesitated, then pulled back the bedspread and pointed out a drying stain. Kes' blue eyes looked into B'Elanna's dark ones with curiosity, then she waved her medical tricorder over the area. "Blood, type O-negative."
B'Elanna finally admitted, "I'm still bleeding. A little. It started right after I...after I had sex." She shrugged and added, "It's never happened before. It...scared me a little."
Kes' face showed comprehension and she carefully ran the tricorder over B'Elanna's pelvis and groin. She studied the results and nodded, saying in a clinical fashion, "You experienced a slight tearing of the hymenal membrane. A happenstance which occasionally ensues during a Human female's initial sexual intercourse."
She got up and opened the small medical kit she brought with her. "I will need to perform an internal exam, but this can be accomplished with a small med-probe. Are you in pain or can you lay back?"
B'Elanna stared at Kes for several moments before she finally found her voice. "Kes...I've had sex before. Why did it happen this time?"
Kes frowned slightly, "If I understand the Doctor's evaluation of you after your return to the ship, the Vidiian's removed your constituent Klingon DNA and reconstituted you without them."
"Yeah," B'Elanna nodded.
"You are, in essence, a new woman, B'Elanna. You were physically a virgin during this sexual encounter, despite the fact that your memories are those of a sexually experienced woman," Kes explained, then asked, "Did you not bleed during your first sexual encounter before this?"
She frowned. "I don't remember. I was...had been...drinking. But I had expected to be bruised and bleeding after the first time, when I was...the way I was before. My mother so much as told me to maybe even expect a broken bone. She told me a Klingon female could break one or have one broken and wouldn't feel it until after. Of course, I didn't, but her warning pretty much scared me away from the experience for the longest time. That's why I, uh, drank so much. I was a little afraid of getting hurt...or hurting my partner."
_Good grief, are Klingons animal?_ The same thought had occurred to her when her mother had spoken to her and it resonated in her mind now. Were Klingons animals? There was violence even in so fundamental an aspect of life for a Klingon and B'Elanna hated violence. Yet you seem to seek it out. Or maybe it just finds you.
_You can't escape your heritage, child . _Her eyes filled with tears now, as her mother's words echoed in her mind, and just as it had back when she'd been a burgeoning young woman, fear and shame nipped at her defenses.
Kes' deeply compassionate nature took over as she noted her patients discomfiture and she sat beside B'Elanna. She laid a warm hand on her shoulder. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, B'Elanna. Many species exhibit uncontrollable behaviors during their reproductive cycles or during rutting. It's perfectly natural and doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you."
"But...I'm not just Klingon. I'm Human, too." The woman whispered brokenly, then lamented, "Why can't I just be one or the other? Now that I'm just one, why can't I stay?"
Having voiced her thus-far unexpressed disappointment, B'Elanna Torres fell against a pillow and allowed her tears to pour forth. They had been threatening to fall since Chakotay had first noted the alarming bloody dampness of the sheets. The stress and embarrassment of the situation had finally won out.
Kes wisely allowed the trembling woman to cry without pause, merely patting her back occasionally and waiting in silent commiseration for the deluge to show signs of ending.
"I'm so sorry, Chakotay."
B'Elanna's voice was small, quite unlike her normal one and for a moment, Chakotay thought he'd merely imagined he heard her until he looked up from their mostly untouched meal to her drawn face beside him.
He reached across and stroked her cheek and she leaned into his touch. _You fool, she's been needing you and you've pulled away like a frightened boy._ Without thinking, he moved closer and gathered her in his arms.
"It's alright, Relampaga, I'm not upset. I was mad at myself for not being careful enough," he admitted softly, kissing her hair.
She pulled back from him, shaking her head. "You didn't do anything wrong at all, Chakotay. It was...it happens sometimes to women." Then she appended with a small shrug, "Human women anyway. I guess I'll go back to not having a category, won't I?"
Chakotay's eyes were warm and he shook his head. "You're in a class all by yourself, B'Elanna Torres. And Human or Klingon, I would find you hard to resist."
Her head dropped at this and to his delight, a blush colored her cheeks. He had never before seen this woman blush and he privately doubted it would be possible again, once the Doctor completed reconstituting her genetic makeup. He took her hand in his and gently squeezed.
He sighed. "B'Elanna, I wish..."
She blinked and looked at him guilelessly. "What?"
"I wish you could have what you wanted. Not for me or anyone, but for you, because it would make you happy. But I think that before all this, you were the most interesting and spontaneous and spirited woman I had ever met." His eyes grew warmer still as he held her hand with his own and the truth in them was undeniable as he concluded, "Or ever will."
"So you repaired a small perforation in her vaginal wall?" The Doctor's face was impassive as he questioned his student, notating his personnel files as he did.
"Yes. I used the probe's cautery. The perforation was less than a centimeter in length and the edges were smooth. I deemed it did not require a more exhaustive or time-intensive technique." Kes said, explaining, "The patient was discomfited with the procedure and I had already ascertained the blood flow had effectively kept the wound from contamination. There was no need to prolong the experience for her, nor to employ the use of further equipment."
The Doctor nodded, pleased. "Just so. You have an admirable grasp of patient sensitivity, Kes." For not the first time, the Doctor found himself wishing the young woman would live longer than the decade which her physiology provided. And that he would not at the end of her life-span find himself as the sole Doctor aboard the ship. He wondered briefly if he should, perhaps, broach the Captain about obtaining another volunteer to learn emergency medicine, then considered her previous choice of medical assistant and pursed his lips.
_Perhaps, if this ship is still lost in five years time, and Kes begins showing evidence of elderly frailty, I will speak with the Captain about this issue._ He made a mental note to discuss it with her in exactly five years from the current Stardate, then returned his attention to the situation at hand.
"The Klingon DNA should finish replicating this afternoon. Did Lieutenant Torres indicate when she was going to report?"
Kes smiled, "I think she'll take as long as she's able. She isn't exactly looking forward to returning to the way she was."
The Doctor frowned, wondering why Kes would make such an assessment when he himself had not noted this attitude in the Lieutenant. _She had,_ he thought, _seemed a bit surprised when I indicated I needed to return the Klingon DNA to her genetic structure, but little else. She did not cry out, storm out of Sickbay or emphatically refuse._
"What makes you say that, Kes?" he asked now, curious as to what the Ocampa woman read into the situation.
Kes merely smiled now. "B'Elanna told me."
"Ah." The Doctor nearly sighed, then turned back to his perusal of the tissue replicator's data-stream, feeling the odd sensation he'd just experienced being analyzed by his logic circuitry. After a moment, it diagnosed the feeling: disappointment.
_Why should I be disappointed that the crew feels more able to discuss things with my authentic humanoid assistant rather than myself? After all, I'm merely a hologram,_ he reminded himself unnecessarily. Unknown to him, a peevish expression had wavered momentarily across his face before being relegated to a well-hidden ancillary reaction file without his knowledge, as his creator had designed it to do.
Unbeknownst to the Doctor, his creator had taken great pride at having contributed in the construction of the new starship Voyager and despite (or maybe because of) the fact that no one ever saw his contributions to it and several other smaller fleet vessels he had also equipped with Emergency Medical Programs, he had spent many spare hours fiddling with his simulation of a doctor, imbuing it with various expressions and what he had thought of as quirks into its programming.
If his program was ever employed, Holographic Engineer Lewis Zimmerman wanted to receive some form of recognition of his technical expertise, even if it was negative in nature. Nothing like someone acknowledging your work, he had thought at the time.
The Doctor was not aware of any of this background about himself. He merely felt a vague dissatisfaction which grew as Kes placed a warm hand on his arm, making him look up into her incredibly limpid, blue eyes as she said, "Don't be so hard on yourself, Doctor. You have the weight of the well-being of the entire crew on your shoulders. I think some of the crew sense this and so, they tend to speak to me rather than waste your valuable time."
For a sharp and poignant moment, the Doctor remembered his brief excursion to the holodeck and the desire he had seen expressed in the eyes of a fellow hologram. A hologram which had faithfully executed it's creator's envisioning and died to save him, never realizing her own holographic nature.
_Ah, what bliss you lived in, Freya,_ he sighed. _You had no idea you lived and died a hologram, probably reanimated anew whenever that young Ensign Harry Kim gets it in mind to utilize his program. The way I am when someone needs to utilize mine. Except that I don't forget what went before. I can't, not and still perform my job._
Again, without his awareness, a dark scowl crossed his face, then cleared into the nether regions of that hidden ancillary reaction file. Instead, after this rather lengthy, four millisecond introspection he'd allowed himself, the Doctor merely leveled an even look at his assistant, saying, "I see you have also learned the intricacies involved in...finessing...your patient."
"Doctor." Kes voice held disapproval and he found himself regretting his cynical tone. _What is happening to me? Is this truly what Zimmerman intended when he designed my program? Why do I have so many unnecessary thoughts? So many unresolved or unresolvable issues?_ He avoided using the term feelings, since it was quite ludicrous to think a hologram was capable of such complex functions, even one so application-driven as he.
Still, there were those moments; he pondered in the two point one five milliseconds which followed this introspection; which begged for resolution, demanded explication.
_If I ever do return with this ship, and if Zimmerman is alive, I will demand an accounting,_ he decided. With customary brisk efficiency, he relegated this notation to his personal file, along with the one to speak to the Captain in five years regarding training another person as a medical assistant. Then he looked up at Kes.
"I take it you wish to witness the tissue infusion, Kes?"
To his unexpressed pleasure, Kes smiled broadly, a beatific expression that elevated her already surreal beauty into a new and virtuous realm, thrilling him down to his unsuspected depths as she replied, "I always enjoy watching you work, Doctor."
It was actually four days from the primary DNA infusion in which B'Elanna experienced her first symptom of change.
She had spent two days with vague feelings of unease which she concluded were caused by stress rather than an indication of any physical response to the infusion procedure. Most of it stemmed from the fact that Chakotay worked more than his usual shift and they barely saw each other.
The third day she'd come down with a fever which had made her feel tired and out of sorts. Chakotay had stayed beside her, brought her endless cups of tea and sponged her heated cheeks and arms to make her comfortable. His calm ministrations had been as soothing as his presence.
They had made love more than once that day, despite her condition. Or maybe because of it, she decided later, since the fever was so obviously an indication that the great and irrevocable change approached.
The next morning, she'd woken with a start to slap away an intruder's hand which turned out to be Chakotay, who was gently tracing the tender ridges which had sprouted on her forehead, literally overnight. Her entire face ached and her teeth felt as if they did not fit together quite right.
"Please don't touch me," she told him, then stilled at the deeper, more resonant sound of her voice. Momentarily transfixed with intermixed fear and shame and an inexpressible sense of loss, she'd touched her face, closed her eyes and utterly refused Chakotay's efforts to comfort her as she wept.
"So I take it Lieutenant Torres will be back to speed sometime in the next two days? I'll be glad to have her back in Engineering." Captain Janeway's tone was off-hand, this datum merely something to be tucked away after being relegated to the orderly filing system she maintained in her own mind.
Chakotay bristled at this presumption, about to speak and suggest to the Captain that after a harrowing mission in which B'Elanna had been physically changed and upon her return being made to change again, and worse, being made to change into something she did not wish to be, might require rather more sensitivity than a quick and ill-considered return to duty, when another voice beat him to it.
"Captain, if I may point out," the Doctor's pedantic voice essayed from the terminal interface which was his customary position during these senior staff meetings. "Lieutenant Torres will likely require more time off than merely that in which to complete the infusion procedure. She has, after all, undergone a quite radical physical change which placed great mental as well as physical stress upon her, not just once but twice, in a very short period of time. Placing her so quickly back on duty is ill-advised."
Janeway considered this without expression, then she nodded, "Noted, Doctor. However, I surmise the Lieutenant prefers to keep busy rather than brood over matters. Still, I am not insensitive and I will leave the matter up to her. If she feels she needs more time, I will, of course, provide her with it. And if she'd rather get right back to work, I will accommodate her."
The Captain turned to Tuvok, "Now, Mr. Tuvok, if you would be so kind as to provide the senior staff with your evaluation of this, our second encounter with these Vidiians..."
She appeared much as she had when he'd first met her, Chakotay realized as B'Elanna stalked out of her cabin's bathroom. Her stride was familiar, graceful and predatory. The extra-muscle layers were also back, he noted, able to since she only wore a robe, having obviously enjoyed a hot shower. Wisps of steam rose from her collarbones, the wet skin gleaming in a manner which he found incredibly arousing.
"I...I came to tell you...you, uh...don't have to return...quite so, uh...soon, B'Elanna..." His throat caught on anything else he might have wanted to say.
Chakotay had intended to inform her that Lieutenant Carey had completed a warp core re-alignment and that if she desired some extra time off-duty he could readily give it to her. Instead he found B'Elanna stepping up to face him, utterly unconcerned with his temporary insensibility. In fact, she seemed amused.
She was. Throughout the day she had found herself moving with ease again, with confidence. Her body felt like it was once again her own, rather than a strangers. She knew this body. Suddenly, she found herself filled with a yearning to know his again...in this body.
She snatched up his hand, smelled his palm deeply, which action caused a flood of memories for the suddenly aroused Commander of their first time together. It was what she intended, he realized; a way of reclaiming what her new-old body declared by its very configuration. Then she was in his arms.
"I want you, Chakotay," B'Elanna intoned with dark sensuality.
Commander's voice faltered as she began to open his uniform with quick, efficient fingers. Those self-same, now roughened fingers administered a harsh caress along his torso, slipping down to encircle him and making him groan. "B'Elanna..."
"I want you, Chakotay," she repeated thickly, taking his hand and bringing him down to his knees in her living area, sinking down on the floor, then hauling him down atop her, half his uniform still on.
The air in the room was cold, the floor colder, their position was not entirely comfortable and the tips of his boots dug small whorled tufts into the carpeting, but neither of them noticed these facts until much, much later.
"Good to have you back, sir."
Lieutenant Carey's voice sounded completely sincere, although privately B'Elanna had doubts as to its authenticity despite the fact that she nodded her thanks for the gesture he'd probably made out of politeness.
_Well, what do you expect? You broke the man's nose, for goodness sake!_ She snorted derisively, still unconvinced that her little off-hand cuffing could have broken Carey's nose. It broke when he fell because he was too uncoordinated to stop the fall.
This was her belief in the matter, if anyone had asked, but no one did. The rumors regarding her temper had grown amazingly in the short time the Maquis had been aboard the starship. This was little surprise, since among the Maquis, the rumors of her temper and her fighting ability were legendary and only partly due to the nickname which they'd learned the meaning of and which Chakotay had quickly taken to using at odd and private times.
_Relampaga, eh, Chakotay?_ She smiled slightly, a little sad now as she recalled the way he'd said that right before her first tryst with him. They hadn't bothered waiting until they reached the Badlands in their Maquis ship, merely going to a dark corner of the cargo bay and never minding that any passing Maquis could hear... or watch. It had been wonderful. He had been wonderful. Was that because they'd nearly died that day or because she truly felt more forhim than she cared to admit, she wondered.
_And you've almost died now twice since coming to this Quadrant. Well, if the bloody Caretaker didn't kill me with his manipulations and the diseased Vidiians didn't kill me with their damnable phage, then there's a reason for all I've been through. There's a reason to my survival._
"What the hell could that be," she murmured now under her breath.
"What the hell could what be, B'Elanna?"
The amused voice made her turn with a start and she was faced with the all-too-Human face of Tom Paris, randy pig of a Lieutenant.
_Just look who's saying the engine's overheated...!_ Her face flushed, although with her Klingon complexion, the increased blood flow did not register.
"What do you want, Paris?" She asked now between gritted teeth.
His toothy smile dimmed slightly and he sighed. "I just dropped in before my shift to wish you a welcome back, but I guess you're busy." He turned on his booted heels and began to stride out of Engineering.
As he turned the corner, B'Elanna was suddenly visited with the image of the man who had endured capture with her, even tried to fight off a Vidiian who took her back to the barracks in the grubby mining compound and more important, listened to her fears and tried to calm her when she'd been frightened and sick and faced with the prospect of imminent death.
_Why do I do things so...abruptly?_ She sighed now as well and took off on a trot after him. "Lieutenant!" She hailed as soon as she got around the corner, ignoring the curious looks from the Engineering crew who stopped momentarily to see what had made her shout.
This was partly because most thought she was yelling at Carey and were expectantly waiting for one of their typical full out, shouting thrash-meets which occurred with dreary regularity in the Engine room. For a brief moment, which she would analyze later in the privacy of her room, B'Elanna Torres scolded herself for allowing her reputation to grow in this negative manner. _After all the times Captain Janeway's warned you about your indiscretions..._
Paris stopped in his tracks, surprised by her shout as much as by the expression on her face as she stepped up to him. An uncertain smile half-hovered over his mouth as he nodded and responded in a kind and quieter tone of voice.
"Lieutenant...?"
To his further surprise, he suddenly realized that B'Elanna's expression was not one of entreaty, but of regret. She was oddly breathless when she reached him and despite himself, he reached out both hands and steadied her. The fact that he'd never done so before except in the Vidiian mining compound when they'd both been Human did not enter his mind.
"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked her gently.
She shook her head. "I'm fine, I'm just..." She stopped, suddenly at a loss for words. _Just like before, B'Elanna, as inelegant and ineloquent as ever._
"It's just I wanted to say thank you, Tom. For what you said down on the moon, for helping me, and... and that, that I'm glad we both made it out of there."
The shy smile that punctuated this rambling statement completely undid Tom's resolve and he smiled broadly and brought B'Elanna to him for a quick, close hug, a gesture of friendship so completely unconscious and unabashed in its execution that despite her surprise she could not help but respond with a brief tightening of her own arms. When he released her he slid his hands down to her own and gripped them tight. His whisper was equally tight.
"I'm glad, too."
Then he let her hands go, flashed her a boyish grin, and turned on his heels, headed for the turbolift.
As B'Elanna left Sickbay from her final infusion session, Tuvok approached her in the hallway, his dark face as impassive as ever. She had not seen him since her arrival on the ship nearly ten days ago and he looked the same as always.
B'Elanna suspected he would look this self-same way when she died of old age still striving to get this ship and it's remaining crew or their descendants back to the Delta Quadrant. She rarely let the thought bother her, but suddenly the passage of time grew enormously in the space between herself and Tuvok in this otherwise deserted corridor of a ship which was over seventy-five years from home. It was a return voyage she would not be likely to complete, but which was merely a delay in the life of the man who stood in front of her and she blinked to clear her somewhat dismal thoughts.
"Tuvok. It's good to see you again," she said politely, even inclining her head in the approved Vulcan fashion.
He followed suit, although his expression did not change. "It is equally gratifying to see you, Lieutenant."
He extended a computer disc to her which she simply looked at for a moment. It was something out of character for the Vulcan Security Chief to give her anything unless it was some form of work and she did not feel at all up to a supplementary job right now.
He did not pull his hand back, simply explaining, "It is from Mr. Durst." This had the opposite reaction from what the Vulcan intended, causing B'Elanna to withdraw even further and he frowned now. "Is something wrong, Lieutenant?"
"Durst?" Her voice was dry and tight.
"Yes. As Chief of Security, part of my job entails seeing to their personal effects," Tuvok patiently replied, becoming aware of what was causing the young woman's reluctance. In this case, it was the irrational fear of touching something which had belonged to a dead man which plagued B'Elanna, he knew. It was ag roundless if understandably humanoid reaction caused by their own fear of dying.
Of course, as a security officer, he had come to learn that those humanoids with little or no fear of death were those which seemed to cause the most trouble of all to their fellow men and women and added now without a pause in his mental ruminations, "Mr. Durst's memorial service took place during your recuperation, one week ago. He left instructions that this be given you on the event of his death."
He angled the disc up closer to her eye level and she finally closed her fingers around it, taking it, although she did not examine it yet. She merely nodded at Tuvok.
"Thank you, Tuvok," then she shrugged. "I'm sorry."
The Vulcan tilted his head. "For what are you sorry, Lieutenant?"
"I'm sorry Durst is dead," she replied simply, feeling completely inadequate in her ability to truly explain the magnitude of feelings which swept over her, but also unable to simply let the moment pass. The man was dead and dead because of her. She did not know why she felt this way, but knew with a rock-solid certainty that it was so. It was also something she would never tell another soul despite the fact that the feeling would continue to haunt her at odd times throughout her entire life.
Tuvok seemed to take this with equanimity; he merely assumed this was yet another example of the humanoid predilection to express regret over their own mortality by solemnizing another's death. So he simply nodded and responded, "As am I. He was an able crewman."
Tuvok turned back and headed down the hallway to the turbolift at the end of it, fully intending to notate his daily log, assign shifts for his department for the upcoming two weeks and then submit his daily report to the Captain before turning in for evening meal which he was fully expecting to be hot mushroom soup a-la-Neelix and a cup of herbal tea, as the Talaxian cook had cheerfully informed him earlier in the day. Therefore, he did not notice B'Elanna still standing in the hallway as if rooted to the spot, clutching the disc with a troubled look on her face.
"Chakotay, why didn't you tell me Durst left me something in his will?" B'Elanna asked him later that evening as they finished dinner, having already enjoyed a quick and rather unceremonious lovemaking session upon arrival into her quarters earlier.
The Commander blinked. "You were still off-duty, on sick-leave and you had a lot on your mind, B'Elanna. I told Tuvok to hold onto whatever it was until you were back on duty, feeling better."
"Hmm." It was the only response B'Elanna made and suddenly Chakotay had the impression she was going to ask him to sleep in his own quarters tonight.
_Well, she has the right to,_ he argued to himself. It wasn't as if they were an item, merely old friends who had enjoyed one another once, and now again when one of them had required support the other would readily give, as only such good friends as they were and remained, would give, and he could not fault her wanting to distance herself again. It was not the same as a true relationship and probably wouldn't be unless they chose to make a permanent commitment to one another some time in the unforeseeable future. This wasn't impossible he knew, since they were both seventy-five thousand light-years from a home it was unlikely they would ever see again and all this crew had was each other. He would not, however, press the issue; B'Elanna had gone through enough these last two weeks. Still, he hoped now that she did not regret what they'd done.
_Seska isn't here anymore and this is one of the few women on board that you wouldn't mind staking claim with, Nature Boy,_ he reminded himself now. Despite his preternatural awareness, her sudden statement still startled him.
"Chakotay...I think I need to be alone tonight."
He sighed and nodded, not regretfully, but aware that their easy familiarity would return once again to shipboard co-worker/friends. _It's better than nothing at all, Nature Boy, eh?_ He went to her.
"Let me know if you need anything, all right, Relampaga?" he whispered against her ear, then kissed her cheek with warmth and tenderness unfeigned.
She closed her eyes and cupped his face for a moment, then smiled at him. "I'll give a yell."
"I'd know your yell anywhere, B'Elanna Torres," Chakotay responded as of old and then he gracefully strode from the room.
The woman sighed deeply, feeling the tension inside her ease. She had set aside the disc into a pocket and now she fingered the edge of that same pocket, feeling the hard, even edge of the disc casing, then fishing it out into her palm where she studied it. The uneasiness had returned.
The disc had no label and B'Elanna was suddenly stricken by the fact that aside from his last name and rank, she knew nothing of this man Durst. With the same troubled expression on her face, she strode to her terminal, already ordering, "Computer. Access personnel file on Lieutenant Durst and display."
"Working."
As she reached the terminal, the screen lit up with an image of Durst's face and she swallowed down conflicting feelings to examine the adjoining personal statistics alongside the standard head-and-shoulders Starfleet identi-scan shot.
DURST, PETER BENNETT, Lieutenant, senior specialist/geology, astrophysics - Born 2336 at University of Betazed, Institute of Biological Medicine, mother's name: Jenetra Ch'liie Durst of Betazed, father's name: Darren Durst of Rigel VII. Died 2371 in the line of duty during investigative mission in Delta Quadrant.
_Betazoid,_ B'Elanna mused now, _Durst was half-Betazoid. What else didn't I know about this man?_
She eyed the disc, her fingers feeling the smooth edges and finally sighed and slipped it in the access-inset of her terminal, clearing the screen with a tab of the panel.
"Computer, review file contents on disc and replay."
"Working."
Momentarily the image of Durst filled her screen again, but this time animated. It was so startling and surreal that B'Elanna found herself hard-pressed to continue watching.
"B'Elanna...uh, Lieutenant, that is. Not that it matters, right? I'm not here anymore." Durst shrugged, his gentle eyes flicking unconsciously away from the screen, a nervous gesture she'd seen him emulate during life. Durst, she recalled, had seemed shy to her and her guess had been an accurate one.
"If you're wondering what I could possible have to say to you, well, I've been thinking the same thing myself. I mean, I never could just come out, or rather, come up and talk to a woman. Any woman. Even though I could tell if she was interested or not because of my empathic sense," he paused, then shrugged again. "You probably know by now my mother was Betazoid. She was beautiful. I guess I took after my father..."
The image of Durst smiled ruefully at this little attempt at humor, then blinked away this train of thought. "Well, I left this for you because I wanted you to know how I felt...even if it's once I'm dead. It's a comfort, believe me, to know that one way or another, you'll find out. And if we die together...well, I suppose I expect we'll all die out here in this quadrant. I've always expected to die in a Starfleet uniform so that's not so bad. I guess I just never expected to die so far from home. But it's not so bad since I'm not alone. I mean, we all have each other out here. And with you here...well --" B'Elanna blinked away tears.
"Either way, I...I wrote a poem for you. I'm, uh, not so good at it, not like my father was; leastwise my mother always said it was his poetry that won her over, but well...I try," Durst smiled shyly at the viewscreen, then looked down and away, as was his wont. B'Elanna recalled several instances she had seen him do this and smiled now, feeling a pang of remorse which she swallowed. "I won't read it to you, since my recital is probably worse than my poems, but it's recorded on this disc in an appended visual file, Lieutenant...uh, B'Elanna."
For a moment Durst's face froze and she thought the transmission had come to an end, then he looked up and said her name again. "B'Elanna. B'Elanna Torres. You know, I think your name is as beautiful as you are, were...to me."
Durst swallowed, then said, "Well, I'll let you read it now. Pete Durst, signing off." The viewscreen displayed his poem:
B'Elanna
by Peter Bennett Durst
You stalked past me to your cabin
and filled the hall with righteous anger
froze my simple heart with dread
and seared my soul in fire
And I dreamt of you that night
a glorious, stormy, passion-dream
that filled my mind with visions of you
and burned me with desire
Thus have passed the many light-years
faraway from all we knew and know
still I'm glad to work beside you
on the journey which remains
For should we never reach our goal
has mattered little since I felt
the fiery tendrils of your passion
burning deep within my veins
But for the chance to lie beside you
on some forbidden heated night
held tight within your strong embrace
not just a waking dream
I would strive to give you wholly
of self and soul, if only, you would
out of isolation lift me with you
from a whisper to a scream
B'Elanna sat, stunned, unmoving, but not unmoved, overwhelmed with a sense of loss greater than tears could express, greater even than how she'd felt when she discovered her Klingon features had reasserted themselves and marked her again as a Klingon. Poor Durst...
_Peter,_ her mind chided. Peter forever gone. With only this poem to speak of the man he'd been. A man of hidden passions. Much as she was a woman of hidden tenderness. Opposites...and yet.
She tried to recall all the times she had passed him, worked with him and the only time she could recollect was that first chilly day on the Vidiian moon, still free as they'd clambered around stalagmites, scanning for useful minerals. He had stayed close to her, but now B'Elanna remembered how she had simply assumed this was some misguided sense of concern over her welfare.
_Just because I'm a woman,_ she'd sneered, annoyed. This attitude was especially strong in Human males and it had made her lose patience with him more than once. To her shame, she now remembered having snapped at him, "Stop hovering, Durst! Do you think I'm some helpless female?"
What had the hapless man replied? "Never that, B'Elanna... er, Lieutenant."
She'd merely snapped back, "Then stand aside while at least one of us gets some work done!"
B'Elanna winced now. _I was more right than I knew when I told Chakotay I must sound like a bitch! And I was completely Human when I said that. Human as in humanity, as in humane. Why must that side of me stay hidden? Why am I so... brusque, so abrupt?_
She found herself standing and striding from the room without pause.
Captain Janeway seemed only mildly surprised to find her Chief Engineer at her door. Her tone, however, remained calm and congenial.
"Lieutenant Torres, what can I do for you?"
Without asking to enter, still standing in the hallway, B'Elanna replied breathlessly, "Captain, I know I agreed to start back today, but would it be all right with you if I took tomorrow off? Just tomorrow, then I'd go back."
There was a momentary silence in which she found herself regretting making the request. _Still acting without thinking first, B'Elanna! Will you never learn?_
"Funny you should ask that now, Lieutenant," The Captain's voice interrupted her thoughts, "because I've been doing some thinking along those lines myself. Please, come in."
B'Elanna hesitated, then stepped in. She stayed standing as if expecting to get evicted within moments. Janeway did not notice, though, setting aside a cup of coffee she'd been drinking to turn and say, "Mr. Paris informed me you appeared a bit short of breath today in Engineering, and you do seem a bit breathless to me."
"Oh, no, Captain! That was because I ran to catch up to Tom," B'Elanna insisted. "And right now I just got it in my mind to ask you about tomorrow so I just hurried on over." _Great, go on, B'Elanna, now you sound like some erratic crank!_
Janeway merely arched her brow at this and said, "Well, regardless, I have been thinking about giving you some time off."
"You have?"
"Yes," The Captain admitted, then her expression sobered and B'Elanna felt her stomach sink, wondering what she'd said or done wrong. Janeway sighed and spoke carefully, "Since... since that unfortunate incident regarding the Sikarians, you have been working non-stop, double shifts, even coming in during your off hours sometimes for special projects and it's got to stop."
"It does, Captain?" B'Elanna felt her stomach sink even further. Thoughts began to circle in her head like hungry vultures, threatening to swoop down and pick at the fragile defenses she currently had.
_So. Now how will I show you how much this posting you've given me means? How serious I am? How committed? I'll work my fingers raw for you, Captain, but if you don't let me then how can I ever hope to prove to you that I'm worthy? If not of this uniform, then at least of your trust? Of your confidence?_
"Yes, it does." Janeway's voice brooked no argument and she added, "I want a Chief Engineer, not an automaton."
"Yes, Captain." B'Elanna's voice was even, but her eyes revealed the trepidation she was feeling. "I'll do as you ask."
"I know you will, Lieutenant," Janeway smiled, transforming her face into a warm and gracious one which reminded the beleaguered B'Elanna for one painfully poignant moment of her long-gone Human father. Then she sobered and added, "You've been giving me nothing but your best since your arrival on board, despite the circumstances, and I need you to know it's not been unnoticed. On this last mission, you acted above and beyond the call of duty. You gave of yourself in order for the team to return. I find that exceedingly honorable."
B'Elanna shrugged, "That was my counterpart, Captain."
"That was you, B'Elanna. She's in you now. She always will be. Don't ever make the mistake of thinking you don't have that strength, because it's in you. I've seen it. And I'm very lucky to have you working for me. You must have been a formidable Maquis." Janeway smiled again, this time tempered with a touch of humor and B'Elanna shrugged.
"I suppose I was. But the Maquis never had anything so fine as the equipment on this ship," B'Elanna sighed, admitting, "Ships like this are the reason I entered Starfleet."
"And Captain's like me were the reason you left?" Janeway quipped, then waved her hand. "Never mind. Strike that. Just a bad joke."
"Yes, Captain. It's true," B'Elanna merely said, arresting the Captain's reaction with her solemnity. She locked her gaze on Janeway and said with soft sincerity, "Captain's like you made me realize I could never hope to earn the right to wear the uniform, to...to live in their world of rules, to ever aspire to follow or ever be half as good as any of them."
Janeway was frozen in her astonishment, but she managed to shake her head. "You should never allow anyone to strip away your feelings of self worth, B'Elanna."
"I know. And that's why I left Starfleet, Captain. It's taken me a long time to accept that it was as much self-preservation as bad judgment."
Kathryn Janeway's gaze remained on her Chief Engineer for a moment, then she said quietly, "Request granted, Lieutenant."
"Captain?"
"Your extra day. You can have it. Or more if you need them," Janeway clarified without expression.
"No, just the one, Captain. I..." B'Elanna hesitated, then confessed, "It's about Durst. I missed his memorial. I feel like I should...I don't know, observe the day somehow."
The Captain nodded sadly. "I understand. I barely knew him, but he was a good man, a good worker. A lot of the crew miss him."
This said Janeway sighed, then shook her head regretfully, looking very like any other woman tired at the end of a long work day to the engineer. Yet this woman held the weight of the ship and all the lives contained therein on her shoulders.
_How does she do it? And not blow her stack or get brusque, the way you are? I'd follow her anywhere now. Could I say the reverse would be true? And believe it?_
B'Elanna nodded. "Thank you, Captain. I appreciate it."
"Don't mention it."
Janeway led her to the doorway and B'Elanna found herself in the hallway, musing over the days events and musing about the man who had loved her, despite the fact that she was not exactly regulation, not exactly congenial.
_But he loved me anyway, Klingon half and all, but then, he was half-Betazoid himself._ She frowned at this thought. _He was a man, B'Elanna, that's all. His genetics wouldn't have mattered if you'd found out before. Why should yours?_
_It doesn't matter,_ she suddenly realized. She thought this over, then found herself believing it for the first time in her life. _It really doesn't...all that matters is Peter loved you and now he's gone...forever._
B'Elanna Torres began to slowly walk back to her room, one line in his poem echoing in her mind. _From a whisper to a scream..._ This seemed to speak not just of Durst's passion, but of her reversion. From wholly Human back to her hated halfling state. Or was it?
_I don't hate it, I guess I have her to thank for that,_ she sighed, recalling the conversation she'd had with her other wholly Klingon half on the Vidiian moon and amended, _I can thank *me*. She *was* me, she's in me now...and I am better for it, stronger and...whole._
_...from a whisper to a scream._
"I won't forget you, Durst...I swear it," she whispered now in the silent corridor of this Federation ship so far from it's resident's home. "Because if you truly loved me the way I was, then I can accept myself...just the way I am."
_And I guess I have._ B'Elanna shook her head ruefully then sighed, weary, but at peace with herself for the first time in a very long time.
Finis
